The Agony of Indecision
by Akenokoru
Summary: Voldie has a plan! Using Harry's friends to lure him to his destruction is H/Hr; Angsty whimperings courtesy of Draco. An excahnge fic -- the brits go to Canada! After a long hiatus, I updated. I will be writing more soon. :D
1. Voldemort, A Plan, A Stupid Death Eater

Voldemort, A Dastardly Plan, And A Really Stupid Death Eater.  
  
The moon shone faintly overhead, struggling with the filmy clouds scudding across the midsummer sky. A short man, his breath coming in ragged gasps, leaned weakly against the brick wall of an alley. Beside him stood a tall, commanding presence in black cloak and hood that radiated fear.  
  
After a moment the man stood up, having caught his breath. He turned to the other beside him.  
  
"Here we are, my Lord. What was it you wanted me to do?"  
  
The man's face was unwrinkled and thus betrayed him; it revealed his youth, and his naïveté. He gazed trustingly and without trace of fear at his master.  
  
"I have a plan, young Antonius," the figure said quietly, in a voice that could freeze blood. "A plan in which you figure greatly." There was something about how he said 'plan' which convinced you that it ought to be capitalized.  
  
"But why me, master?" Antonius asked, "There are others-"  
  
"Others that I do not value," Antonius' master interrupted, "You are different, young Antonius. You do not fear me." A pause. "But back to my plan. My spies have informed me - they shall be rewarded - that Harry Potter will be leaving Hogwarts. He will be spending the next three terms abroad; away from Dumbledore's watchful eye. That, my dear Antonius, will be our opportunity." Though Antonius could not see his master's face, he knew he was smiling. "You know what we must do."  
  
"Send housewarming gifts?" Antonius guessed dimly. A flash of irritation from his master; and then-  
  
"No, Antonius. I have a better idea." He smiled cruelly. "With young Mr. Potter away from that fool, we shall have free rein to lead him to his destruction. Or, to have someone else do it for us."  
  
"I don't understand, master." Antonius said, his face contorted in concentration as he tried desperately to understand the nuances of his master's words.  
  
"I believe Lucius can explain it for us." With a back wards glance, he waited. And he was soon rewarded.  
  
A silvery-blond man, much older than Antonius, came rustling down the alley. He stopped, and bowed deeply.  
  
"My Lord." He nodded.  
  
"Lucius, tell us what plan you have come up with."  
  
"Harry Potter blindly trusts those he calls his friends. So, if we could have one of those friends betray him to us, he would deny any evidence of their connection to the Dark Arts and to us, right up to the brink of death."  
  
"But Harry Potter's friends are good, they're Gryffindors, master," Antonius protested, "We could never convince any of them to join our cause!"  
  
"So," his master countered, as if expecting his student's complaint, "we give him new friends." 


	2. Prelude to Change

Prelude to Change  
  
It was the usual busy scene at Number Four Privet Drive one Wednesday morning; Petunia had left early to do the shopping, leaving Harry with the stern command to see that the bacon didn't burn. Seeing as how turning his aunt into a cockroach was not exactly an option, Harry watched the bacon. It didn't burn. Dudley ate it too fast.  
  
Uncle Vernon was wiping scrambled eggs from his shirt front when a dark brown elf owl flew in through the open window bearing a letter much too large for it. It dropped this letter onto Vernon's head, causing him to promptly spill another helping of eggs.  
  
"Boy!" Vernon roared. Harry snatched up the letter before Vernon had a chance to destroy it; he remembered the summer before first year all too well.  
  
Not watching where he was going, Harry raced up the stairs to his room, ignoring Vernon's bellows. He'd been waiting for this letter all summer and Uncle Vernon could wait.  
  
Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that your request for a position on our exchange trip has been accepted.  
  
Harry let out a whoop so loud that the next-door neighbors leaned out of their windows. Luckily for Harry Aunt Petunia was out; she always said that they did so when she wasn't looking. He went back to the letter.  
  
You shall accompany the other selected students to Platform Nine and Three Quarters on August the Twenty-first. Please be sure to bring all of the needed equipment for sixth year, enclosed in this letter. Yours Sincerely, Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.  
  
A grin spread itself across Harry's face as he returned the letter to its envelope and placed the envelope in his pocket. He returned to the breakfast table in that state. Vernon was not amused.  
  
"Don't you ever ignore me again, boy!" His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What was in that letter, anyway?"  
  
"Only the best birthday present I could ask for!" His grin widened 'til it threatened to split his face in two.  
  
Though he might not have said that if he knew that some hundred miles away, Draco Malfoy was opening an almost identical letter, with slightly different instructions. 


	3. From the Platform to the Threshold

From The Platform To The Threshold  
  
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters had never seen such a day, or never will again. Such a battle could never be repeated in the history of all mankind. For on that day, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy shook hands and smiled at each other.  
  
And no, neither of them died. Though I'm not sure neither one nursed broken fingers.  
  
This, then, is how it came about.  
  
"Harry! Harry!" The Boy Who Lived whipped around to see a radiantly beaming Hermione trailing a reluctant Ron.  
  
"Hermione, slow down." Ron scolded.  
  
"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed exasperatedly. She waved, practically glowing. "Hi, Harry."  
  
"Hello, Hermione." Harry said softly. He smiled at her.  
  
[A/N: Hermy's heart: Pitter patter ;)]  
  
"What's all this fuss about this place anyway?" Ron asked. "It's in America, right?"  
  
"North America," Hermione corrected. "More specifically, Canada, and Western Canada at that. And-"  
  
"Are you going anywhere with this, Hermione?" Ron and Hermione exchanged glare.  
  
"You're getting very good at that." Harry commented with a sly smile, before cowering beneath the combined effects of his friends' murderous glances. They laughed.  
  
"Anyway, this school, the Magical Academy for Select Students, [A/N: I can't for the life of me remembered what it's called.] is the first of its kind in British Columbia, Canada." The scowl was added as an afterthought. Ron looked away and pretended not to notice. "It's very much linked to Hogwarts, and that's why we were included in the exchange program." Hermione squealed. "It's going to be just wonderful! The chance to study another culture, live amongst them and learn their ways- it's going to be such fun!" She let out a giggle of girlish glee. Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"We're not going to live amongst the Quamala pigmies of the Amazon, Hermione," Ron protested, "They're real people, you know. A lot like us, in fact."  
  
"Oh?" a familiar icy drawl asked them. "Do you really think so?"  
  
He always sounds like he's whispering in your ear, even when he's ten feet away, Harry thought, infuriated. I hate that.  
  
He always sounds like he's whispering in your ear, even when he's ten feet away, Hermione suppressed both a sigh and another girlish giggle. If only he weren't evil.  
  
Draco Malfoy did indeed look quite evil at that moment, his lazy I- know-something-you-don't smirk plastered across his pale face, his grey eyes glinting malevolently.  
  
"Malfoy." Harry nodded, seething inwardly.  
  
"Potter. I, for one, am amazed that you were accepted - my, my, I was under the impression that only the best were permitted - I must have been mistaken." The smirk was replaced with a faint sneer as his gaze slid languidly over Harry and his friends.  
  
"Why, Weasley; Granger; so glad you joined us," he commented silkily. "I would have thought the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers would be staying behind."  
  
"I suppose you were wrong." Draco looked up behind him at none other than a none-too-pleased Mr. Weasley. "Apologize for your language, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"And why should you be giving me orders?" Although Mr. Weasley was taller than Draco, his tone made it appear as though the Malfoy towered over him. Arthur was neither intimidated nor impressed.  
  
"I'm a professor at MBSS," Mr. Weasley proudly announced, "and I'm to be your chaperone on your journey."  
  
Only Harry noticed Draco's face fall momentarily before he regained his composure.  
  
"Well," he said, "I guess I'll be seeing you around. Hermione." With one final smirk, he slid unhurriedly away with a backwards glance and a wink.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron asked, visibly shaken.  
  
"Yes, Ron?"  
  
"Did Malfoy just call you by your first name?"  
  
*****  
  
The students piled into the train, laughing and talking amongst themselves, and several introductions were made. There was, beside Mr. Weasley, a Miss Riley, who insisted on being called Mimi and was the self- appointed Counselor of the group. She spotted Draco and Harry's animosity in several seconds. They are not all that subtle about it, after all.  
  
It only took the new Director of Inter-Student Relations a few minutes to concoct a plan to get the group 'together'. Exploding Snap, Chocolate Frogs, parlor games, all failed. There was only one option left. Group therapy.  
  
At this point, the students bailed.  
  
Hermione, Harry, and Ron found a compartment to themselves and sat down wearily. They looked out the window at the countryside flashing by; in the far distance the English Channel shimmered in the summer heat.  
  
Draco, however, remained in the passageway, leaning against the coolness of the wooden panels. Without warning, a tiny owl that appeared to be made out of pure silver swooped down and dropped an equally tiny letter into Draco's hands. He unfolded the note, and read;  
  
Draco, I must regretfully ask you to remember your instructions. I did not think you would forget so soon; I suppose I must remind you. I had never expected my son to be a simpleton. You are to gain the confidence of Harry Potter, and then you are to betray him to the Three whom my Lord and I will point out. The Three will bring him to us, and my Lord will have his revenge. You must also be sure to tell him of the road to your betrayal, which the Three will reveal to you in due time. Remember, three roses, one stone, three maidens, one soul's song, three hearts, one master. If you cannot understand such simple instructions, I will have to replace you with a much more intelligent servant. Your father Lusius M  
  
As Draco finished the letter, he sighed. The bit of parchment let out a similar sound and folded itself over and over again until it resembled a minuscule silver spark, from which wafted purple smoke until it went out. He moved towards the door where Harry and his friends were sitting, close enough to overhear some of their conversation.  
  
"Could you believe her?" Ron asked incredulously. "Is she a Professor?"  
  
"Hardly," Hermione scoffed, "She's far too unprofessional."  
  
"I don't mind her," Harry protested, "She was just doing all that for the good of the group."  
  
"And Professor Trelawney only foretold your death several hundred times out of concern for your best interests, right?"  
  
Draco could hear Harry narrow his eyes.  
  
"That's not funny."  
  
"Funny? Well, we all agree you're funny-looking, Potter, but this trip is nothing to laugh at." And there was Draco Malfoy, leaning against the compartment doorway in all his sardonic splendour. They glared. He smirked.  
  
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" He faked a pout and flopped down next to Hermione. "Hello, Hermione."  
  
She just looked at him.  
  
"Well, well, well, no need to get touchy; I just came over to tell you something."  
  
"What? Have you decided to stop being an arrogant prat and thought we'd like to know?" Hermione bristled.  
  
"Why, of course not, darling. I'll always be an arrogant prat. What would happen to the world if I wasn't? What would happen to Pansy Parkinson?" An awkward silence passed. "Alright, the world would probably be better off without her, but I digress."  
  
He took a breath.  
  
"I thought Potter might like to know that there is an event coming up which might just succeed in tripping him up on the stairs to greatness," Draco informed them cordially, or as cordially as you can expect from Draco. "That's all." He rose to leave.  
  
"Do you know what it is?" Came the terse reply. "Will it effect you?"  
  
"And will you live through it?" Ron asked.  
  
"Why, of course, my dear Weasley." Draco answered. "What would happen if I didn't? What-"  
  
"Okay, okay, we get it!" Ron interrupted. "Shut up, Malfoy."  
  
"Weasley, I'm hurt," he clutched his chest in mock reproach. "But I just wanted to say, good luck, Potter. You're going to need it."  
  
"As will you." Harry replied.  
  
And they shook hands and smiled.  
  
*****  
  
The rest of the trip passed without event; the Atlantic was as cold and grey as it had ever been when they arrived at the coast. Mr. Weasley plucked a discarded soda bottle from the sand.  
  
"Ah ha!" he cried. "Our Portkey!"  
  
They all crowded around, six at a time. There weren't that many of them there; Mr. Weasley and Mimi; the official Chaperone, Professor McGonagall; the rest of the Weasleys - "Mum's going to be really lonely at home," Ron joked - Harry, Hermione, Draco, Penelope Clearwater, Cho Chang, Blaise Zabini, Malcolm Baddock, and surprisingly, Moaning Myrtle, who kept casting agonized glances at Harry and sighing. He made sure not to be in her Portkey group.  
  
The Portkey dropped them on a low hill just before a small but splendid looking castle; purple, white, green, and blue flags flapped from four turrets. They could make out several greenhouses clustered on the roof - An odd place to put them, Ron mused - and beyond them, a golden pinnacled spire flashing brilliantly in the sun. Above the heavy, elaborately carved oaken door, a great crest hung. The sun's rays shone directly upon it, making it seem like the crest held all the light in the world.  
  
At the top, a white dove and black raven were intertwined, holding the same olive branch in their beaks. Below them, a black cat of some kind was rampant on a star-filled violet field, and around dove, raven, and cat was a silver serpent.  
  
"Dovecote, Ravenclaw, Felixa and Slytherin," Hermione said softly, "The four houses of the Magical Branch for Selected Students."  
  
"Or in other words," a rich, bright voice called from a lower window, "Welcome to MBSS." 


	4. The Silver Lining

The Silver Lining  
  
Everyone looked to the window, where not one, but two young girls were standing, waving to the new arrivals. In a flash, the two were down on the grounds, making introductions and giving out hugs right and left.  
  
"Hey!" The plump one called, "We're twins, but it's not that hard to tell us apart. I'm Angela Grey, and this," she indicated the slender girl, "Is Miriam."  
  
"Miriam Grey," her sister corrected, "I have a last name too, you know."  
  
"Well, it's splendid to meet both of you," Harry said, holding out his hand, "I'm Harry Potter, Miriam Grey," She giggled and, ignoring his outstretched hand, wrapped a rather startled Harry in a great big bear hug.  
  
A surprised Harry stared at Ron and Hermione of Miriam's shoulder. Ron was laughing too hard to notice the glaring, and Hermione just smiled. When Miriam finally let go, Angela motioned them to follow her up to the castle.  
  
The twins drew the wide wooden doors open with a flourish. The procession walked inside, their eyes slowly adjusting to the cool August darkness. Outside, the sun was just beginning to set. It had been a long journey.  
  
Angela talked nonstop during the tour through the cafeteria, the auditorium, the school museum and trophy room, with Miriam interrupting softly every once in a while. Harry and the others feigned polite interest before they got to the Portrait Room, where the courteous but distant smiles were replaced with something real.  
  
"The most famous room in all of British Columbia!" Angela whispered.  
  
"Perhaps even all of Canada." Miriam nodded.  
  
One by one, the guests were ushered inside alone. They left with expressions of awe, and the others slowly grew more and more mystified.  
  
Harry entered, in the middle of the group. The room was small, no larger than his bedroom at home. Four of the walls were hung with drapes of silk and velvet in the school colours. The fifth wall, the one that Harry now faced, was covered with Portraits - hence the name 'Portrait Room', Harry reminded himself - four in all.  
  
The first portrait, being of wizard make and therefore slightly - how shall we put it - alive, contained the frowning face of a black-bearded wizard. His hair was streaked with silver, and his eyes were brilliant, bitter green.  
  
"Scrawny thing, isn't he?" The portrait remarked to himself. The other three portraits scowled at him, before he conceded. "Alright, alright. No need to fuss, Junia." He turned to Harry again. "What's your name, boy?"  
  
"Harry Potter." He answered.  
  
"Harry Potter, eh?" the portrait murmured. "Well, you're capable enough, I guess, not remarkably, but nothing to sneeze at. A Parseltongue as well, I see." A smile slithered onto the old man's face as Harry's mouth gazed open in shock. "Determined, well, that's alright, a desire to do well, a desire to help others, a desire to save the world." The wizard rolled his eyes. "I can see it now. Well, I've seen what I've seen. What have you to say, Junia?" He challenged the portrait next to him.  
  
She was a young witch, with brunette hair that curled where it hit her shoulders, and her eyes were not unkind. She smiled reassuringly at Harry.  
  
"Well, he's a lovable little dear, one can tell that just by looking at him," she said, half fondly and half teasingly. Harry blushed.  
  
"Oh, get on with it Junia," the first wizard growled, "Honestly, you're getting to be like a biddy old hen." He crossed his arms with a 'humph!'  
  
"He's got a great big heart, for one, Salazar," she shot back, "Bigger than yours, I'd imagine. Not much artistic talent, but great modesty, and bravery, and love." In the next portrait, the first wizard rolled his eyes. She elbowed him, and he yelped.  
  
"He works hard, not prone to shortcuts at all. Well, I've seen what I've seen. Jonathan?" She turned to the silent portrait beside her.  
  
No response.  
  
"Jonathan?" She asked again slightly louder.  
  
Still nothing.  
  
"Jonathan Dovecote!" the witch roared, "WAKE UP!"  
  
The man in the portrait on her right stirred, dropped his glasses, and looked about dazedly.  
  
"Another student, have we?" He asked, stupidly. He noticed Harry. "Sorry, Harry." He said, smiling good-naturedly. "Let's see then." He put his glasses back on and scrutinized the untidy-haired boy before him.  
  
"A heart of gold!" He cried joyously. "Or almost. You have a tendency to disregard the rules when you feel they're superfluous and in your way-"  
  
"Enough with the big words, Jonathan." The first wizard growled.  
  
"Now, now Salazar," the last witch, on the far right said, "Let the boy speak. It does the heart good to hear him using his knowledge instead of letting it rot away into nothingness." She glared at him severely over her glasses, and he scowled insolently. "Go on Jonathan, dear," She said comfortingly. Jonathan nodded gratefully, and went on.  
  
"Well. There's a tendency to break rules, but also a fierce love and loyalty to those you love, bravery in the extreme, but tempered with kindness. Always there to lend a helping hand-"Jonathan wiped away a tear. "This is beginning to sound like a Hallmark card." The man began to sob uncontrollably. Junia patted his head sympathetically and handed him a handkerchief.  
  
"He always cries at Hallmark cards," She whispered to a speechless Harry. After a moment, Jonathan had recovered enough to say, "Well, I've seen what I've seen," and hand the torch - figuratively, of course - to the last witch. "It's your turn, Rowena." He gently reminded her.  
  
"Yes, of course, Jonathan." She smiled dotingly. Salazar, in his corner, let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'old hag'. Glares from the other three silenced him. Harry was beginning to understand how their miniature caste system worked.  
  
"Hmm." Rowena looked at Harry through her crescent-shaped spectacles resting precariously on the tip of her nose.  
  
"Well, well, what have we here?" she whispered to herself, "Not half clever, I see, but your mind's in other places. I don't think I can do much for you." She smiled. "I've seen what I've seen. Now, I'd put you with Dovecote myself, seeing as how he idolizes you, but you're not staying here permanently, are you?"  
  
"No." Harry found his voice again.  
  
"Well. Send the next one in dear, and have a nice day."  
  
Harry dazedly said good bye or something like it and went back outside. It was not long before everyone was through, and talking about their experiences. Only Draco remained silent.  
  
"Did you ever?" Hermione asked incredulously after recounting how Rowena and Jonathan had had a terrible argument over her, ending in both sulking like scolded children. "The school Founders, acting the way they do! I daresay centuries as portraits have driven them quite mad!"  
  
"No, they're not mad," Miriam said, "They just have a sense of humour."  
  
"But I wonder," Ron asked, puzzled, "What two of the Hogwarts founders were doing here in America?"  
  
"CANADA." Miriam and Angela corrected him loudly and simultaneously. He cowered.  
  
"But anyway," Angela recovered quickly, "When Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts, he eventually persuaded Rowena Ravenclaw to come with them. They met up with Jonathan Dovecote - a Brit himself - and Junia Felixa - a Latin, actually, - and voila! You have MBSS!"  
  
Behind her, several uniformed students walked down the hall.  
  
"I thought Term didn't start till September first?" Hermione inquired.  
  
"Some students stay here year round," Angela informed her, "The most famous of the 'borders', as we call them, is probably Moril." She turned and waved, "Hey, Moril!" She yelled.  
  
A sandy haired boy with a pale face separated from the group and came over.  
  
"Tanamoril Dastarddanger," he introduced himself, "Don't call me Tanamoril. Moril will do." He shook hands with all the graces of a modest courtier till he came to Harry.  
  
"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" He asked curiously. Harry nodded. "And that must be your scar. oh. scars. cuts. wounds. blood.. gaaah.." And with his right hand pressed to his suddenly paper-white forehead, he swooned and fell backwards into the waiting arms of Angela and Miriam. This action was met with surprise and concern from the exchange students and irritation from Angela and Miriam.  
  
"Oh honestly." They muttered, magicking up a stretcher, "That's the fourth time this week." The exchange students followed nervously, as the twins led them to what was quite obviously a hospital wing.  
  
It was neat, warm, and homey; the beds were covered in soft, cushy blue covers. The golden-haired girl in the bed nearest the open window stirred and sighed softly before returning to sleep.  
  
"Madame!" Angela called, "It's Moril again!"  
  
"No!" A distinctly French voice came from somewhere else in the hospital wing. "Honestly, that boy should be taking better care of himself!"  
  
A grandmotherly woman with braided silver hair and a decidedly no- nonsense attitude appeared before them, bustling about and settling Moril into the bed next to the girl. She tsked, much like Hermione.  
  
"Miss Grey," she asked Miriam, "It's six o'clock. Sidra Alistaire will be in here any minute - could you get her potion from the cupboard?" Miriam nodded and went in search of this potion. Madame rushed off, leaving the exchange students mystified.  
  
"Why'd he faint like that?" Ron asked Angela. She laughed.  
  
"Oh, it's a habit of his. Right annoying, but it's a part of him, and, well. Moril is Moril. He does things his own way, and I personally think the fainting spells are just a ploy for attention. If I'm right, he's much like your Draco Malfoy." A teasing smile played about her lips. "One. Two. Three." she counted silently. As if on cue, Moril's voice rose behind her.  
  
"Draco Malfoy? Are you mad? I do things with a bit of style, thank you." A pause. "Why, Draco!" He exclaimed chummishly, "What a pleasant surprise!"  
  
"Tanamoril," Draco countered. "What a pleasant - not quite surprise, but then you always were quite predictable."  
  
"How's life been treating you? More importantly, how's Lucius been treating you?"  
  
A nasty smile appeared on Draco's face.  
  
"Just fine, Tanamoril."  
  
Then Madame returned, bearing smelling salts and cutting off this quite entertaining exchange of insults.  
  
"Naomi!"  
  
"Moril!"  
  
"Moril?"  
  
"Nina!"  
  
The collective eyes of the throng passed from Nurse to student to student, baffled further when a silver-haired girl, smaller than the rest, came in behind the crowd of confused British students and demurely pushed her way to the front.  
  
"Naomi?"  
  
"Sidra.."  
  
"Nina! Moril!"  
  
"Sidra!"  
  
"Enough!" Hermione shouted. She shoved her way to where four people stood, sat, and lay. "You-"she pointed to the small, dark-eyed girl, "are Sidra. Right?" Sidra nodded, and Hermione moved on. "You are Moril. Right?" The sandy-haired Moril nodded as well. "Now," she said, turning on the Madame, "You are either Naomi or Nina."  
  
"I'm Naomi, Naomi Plantagenet," the old woman told her, "But most everyone calls me Madame."  
  
"Then why do they call you Naomi?"  
  
"They are my most regular visitors to the hospital wing. We're on first name basis, after four years of fainting, collapsing, and taking ill."  
  
"This is beginning to look like a tangled logic puzzle." Ron muttered before cowering under Hermione's wrathful gaze.  
  
"Now, you are the last, and by the process of elimination, you must be Nina." Hermione said to the golden-haired girl by the window.  
  
"No, I'm a rutabaga," the girl said, a faint smile on her face. "Of course I'm Nina. I'm in here because I was dancing, forgot to eat, collapsed, and am getting better. Sometime next week I will be dancing, forget to eat, and will collapse, then be shipped off to the hospital wing to get better." She sighed. "It's a never-ending story."  
  
"I think we're finally getting this sorted out," Hermione sighed. "Moril faints, Nina collapses, so Sidra must 'take ill'". Hermione glowered at Sidra, daring her to disagree.  
  
"You're absolutely right," Sidra said softly, "I've always been like this. It's like I was born without an immune system - but my family had to keep me. I'm the first daughter on my father's side in over a century."  
  
"Now that we've got that straightened out," Hermione said triumphantly, "Let's go out and eat and. meet the other. several. hundred. students.." She sank to her feet with a moan. "This will take forever!" She said hopelessly.  
  
"Well," Ron said to Harry, "At least the girls are pretty, eh, Harry?"  
  
"I never noticed." Harry replied softly, gazing warmly at Hermione.  
  
She blushed.  
  
[A/N: AWWWW!! Big hugs for Harry, King of Cuteness! And Hermy, his Queen!] 


	5. Boys

Chapter Five  
  
Moril winced as he bumped in to Naomi. She remained asleep. It was about an hour before dinner, and Moril had decided that he couldn't stay in the hospital wing for another long and boring night. Naomi snorted, and moved around in the uncomfortable chair.  
  
"How can she sleep like that?" Moril jumped, and took a glance behind him. It was Nina, and Sidra, and they both had guilty looks on their faces.  
  
"Sneaking out as well?" Moril asked, grinning as they nodded.  
  
"Come on."  
  
They tiptoed out of the hospital wing, and Sidra and Nina left to go get ready for dinner. Shaking his head in dismay, "Why do girls take so long to get ready?" Moril didn't notice the figure concealed in the shadows.   
  
"Sneaking out of the hospital wing? Not exactly daring, but I didn't  
  
expect much of you, anyway." Moril grimaced.  
  
"Draco. What do you want?" Moril asked spitefully. Draco smoothed his immaculate hair with his hand, and leaned against the wall indifferently. Behind him an open archway led into a small enclosed courtyard; the moonlight from the garden shone down, placing a glowing halo on his head. But his words, as always, were far from angelic.   
  
"I was trying to decide which you'd like better for a 'sorry' gift, a rose  
  
scented note, or a big smooch... knowing you, both would render you  
  
unconscious, for obvious reasons. Oh, and sorry about your mum." Moril  
  
rolled his eyes, and leaned against the wall opposite Draco.  
  
"You don't really care, do you? You don't have a compassionate bone in your body."  
  
"I may not, but I really am sorry your mother died-how long did your father stay? Two days? One?" Moril shoved Draco. The blond boy laughed, but his grey eyes were bored with his usual malice.   
  
"He stayed for two weeks, but I doubt YOUR father is faithful to your  
  
mother." Moril accused bitingly. Draco shrugged.  
  
"So what else is new? My father's an evil git, and my mother smothers me. That's my home life. Love and happy hugs all around."  
  
"You haven't changed a bit since we were seven, have you, Malfoy?" Moril rolled his eyes. Draco smiled winningly.  
  
"I'll have you know I peaked at seven... you can't beat your best."  
  
Moril shook his head. He was used to Draco when the sarcastic boy wasn't insulting his mother.  
  
"Rather than just exchanging insults, would you tell me why you're here?"  
  
"Won't tell unless you say 'please.'" Draco whined. Moril rolled his eyes again.  
  
"Fine. Please." He dragged out the last word. Draco sneered.  
  
"Daddy dearest needs Potter. Just get him to me, he says, and I get to skip the ever-so-fun round of torture and dismemberment he has planned. Potter will have to suffer through it, which is fine with me." Moril glanced up at Draco.  
  
"Don't you two Malfoys have lackeys to do that kind dirty work for you?" Moril asked. Draco shook his head.  
  
"Crabbe and Goyle were left at Hogwarts. Besides, those two couldn't be counted upon to screw in a light bulb, even if the instructions were verbal. I need you to help me."  
  
"Malfoy, the only reason I joined in on your little escapades before was because mother was your cousin, and she had a soft spot for your family. I'm not helping you on this one. I won't join in this time, Draco. I'm sick of your beliefs." Malfoy frowned suddenly, and said,  
  
"You don't know my beliefs. And, sure, I would've welcomed your help, but I don't really need it." Moril shrugged, and began to walk away.  
  
"You may not stand by our customs, Moril, but the blood running through your veins is purely Malfoy." Draco called after him, and added, in a whisper, "Just like mine."  
  
***** Harry was sitting with his three friends, deep in thought. Would he be  
  
safe here? More importantly, would Ron and Hermione be? Since the Tournament, Harry had been increasingly aware of how much danger his friends were in, and he wondered if Dumbledore had taken precautions. He was interrupted by Hermione tugging on his arm. He looked up in to her worried face. Her beautiful face, he thought to himself, and he smiled in spite of his gloom.  
  
"Hermione, what is it?" Hermione grinned.  
  
"Angela and Miriam are giving us a tour of the four houses. We only have an hour to see them all, so we better get moving." Hermione and Ron pulled Harry up, and followed the two girls. They stuck close to them, and were able to hear everything that they had to say, not like the rest of the  
  
transfer students, who walked slowly behind them.   
  
"This school is pretty old, almost as old as Hogwarts. But MBSS was always a college, just for students who wished to further their studies. It was  
  
changed in to a boarding school in 1952, exactly 50 years ago, to give the  
  
unexpected boom of children more room for their magical studies. Even  
  
though it was changed 50 years ago, that doesn't mean that it was just a  
  
boarding school, it still offered many college courses. So, even now, we  
  
have some of the more . . . odd classes here. We get students from all over the world who want to learn here." Ron eyed the two girls suspiciously.  
  
"You sound like professors." Miriam and Angela grinned.  
  
"We got that from our headmistress, who forced us to memorize it." Angela assured him. "Now that that is out of the way, we can tell you more about the other side of the school. The houses are exactly the same as they are in Hogwarts, yet here they are placed in the towers. We usually have five students per room, so about ten students per year, per house. The college students have the topmost point of the tower, and they are allowed to use the towers for their advanced astronomy lessons. Here's Dovecote." Miriam walked up the stairs, and they saw a huge bookcase at the end of the hall.  
  
"There used to be a picture here, but too many students forgot the  
  
password. So now we only have to remember the colour and name of the book. It's usually placed in different places, so it's harder for the others to  
  
find it." Angela pulled on a deep magenta book, and the book case moved  
  
slowly backwards and to the left, revealing a large passage way.  
  
"Most of the passageways are huge, so that our more unusual students can get in comfortably." Hermione looked around at the beautiful tapestries,  
  
but Ron and Harry both made their way up the stairs to the dorms. The  
  
tower was taller than the one at Hogwarts, but there was another  
  
difference. Somehow, the rooms were much larger.  
  
"Wow, we actually have space here." Ron commented. Harry nodded, and took a look out the window. He could see the back fields of the school, deep green in their summer splendour. But he also saw a woman, followed by two centaurs.  
  
"Who's that?" Harry asked, pointing to the girl. Miriam came up behind him, and said,  
  
"That's Olivia, our groundskeeper. In the tradition of the schools, the  
  
groundskeeper is usually someone who cannot be taught at the school. I  
  
think that was the case for your groundskeeper as well, right?" Harry  
  
nodded, and George came up behind the two of them.  
  
"She doesn't look part giant. Is she a midget giant?" He joked. Miriam rolled her eyes, and George grinned.   
  
"You're not even going to school. Why're you here?" Miriam said,  
  
shooing him away. "By the way, she's not a giant. She's a goblin." Ron and Harry both peered out the window, and at the girl.  
  
"Aren't goblins supposed to be ugly, and-green?" Angela laughed, and nodded.  
  
"Yes, they're supposed to be, but Olivia was born pretty, so was thrown out. Goblins are jealous people."  
  
Hermione was done viewing the commons room, and had joined  
  
them in the dorm.   
  
"Where are all the people, aren't there any boarders from Dovecote here?" Angela shook her head.  
  
"No, they're all boring."  
  
"Angela!" her sister scolded, "They're not all boring! You're being judgemental! The little ones are really sweet, and you can always count on a Dovecote when you're in trouble. It's just -"  
  
"-- That they're not exceptionally smart, they're usually the  
  
people who don't really fit anywhere else..." Angela protested, "Not that I'm stereotyping or anything, but most of them are a real bore."   
  
"That's one point of view." Miriam retorted curtly. Angela shrugged with a half smile and the girls went down the stairs, and walked down the hallway. They skipped up another flight of stairs, and came to a dead end.  
  
"This is the entrance to Felixae." Angela pointed proudly to the window, and walked straight up to it. Hermione came up as well, and touched the window."  
  
"The window seems to be normal...are you sure that this is an entrance?" Hermione asked sceptically. Angela nodded.   
  
"Yes, but this is probably the coolest one." Angela drew back her fist,  
  
and punched the glass. The window broke, but there was no sound. The  
  
whole window fell to the ground, and they saw a passageway. There were  
  
torches lighting the hall, leading the students to the dorms. They were astonished. The whole dorm was filled with amazing tapestries, and it stretched out, almost as large as the main hall at Hogwarts.  
  
"Wow. Why do you have so much space?" Hermione asked, peering at the elaborate tapestries, particularly one portraying a blond woman and a short brunet man slaying someone in dark armour.  
  
"We have this much space because Felixae is the art house. Most of us need this space for practising, and being creative. Most of our space is  
  
actually built in to the mountain behind us. So, each of us get our own  
  
rooms, unless we want to share with someone else. I'll show you our  
  
rooms."   
  
Angela and Miriam led Harry, Ron and Hermione up the stairs and in to a huge room. One half was decorated in rich, exotic shades of purple, red, and yellow, and the other in soft blues and yellows. Miriam quickly stuffed a worn pink bunny under a pillow, blushing wildly.  
  
"We sing, so we need a sound proof room. Not that we're terrible singers or anything." Angela saw a piece of paper on her desk, and she  
  
quickly read it.  
  
"Miriam, we have to go down to the hospital wing. Again. That Moril has to take his concoction, and Madame can't find him. Again." Angela rolled her eyes, and Miriam groaned.   
  
"I'm sorry, we have to leave you. Give this sheet to Sidra and Nina;  
  
they'll direct you to the rest of the dorms. They're in the next rooms."   
  
Angela and Miriam ran out of their room, leaving Ron, Harry, and Hermione all alone.  
  
"Well, that was rather rude." Hermione tutted, and walked out of the room. Harry started to walk away, but Ron remained in the middle of the room.  
  
"Ron, come on! We only have a half hour to see the rest of the houses." Ron looked at her.  
  
"Hermione, I'm alone in a girl's room!" Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Its two girls, Ron, and anyway, you've been up to my room dozens of times." Hermione told Ron. He made a face.  
  
"Hermione, they're pretty, and you're my friend. It's just not the same." Hermione frowned, and stomped out of the room.  
  
"Come on, Ron, you know how she feels about that! Don't be stupid. You just as well called her ugly." Harry ran out after Hermione, leaving Ron alone.  
  
"Does my conscience have to ruin everything that I want to do?" Ron said, walking out after his two friends.  
  
"Hermione stood outside of the door to one of the rooms. She knew that it was either Sidra's or Nina's, but she didn't like barging in on people's  
  
privacy. Harry came up behind her, and lightly tapped on her shoulder.  
  
"Oh, Harry." She spun around, startled. "Hi. What is Ron's problem? I thought that he learned his lesson two years ago, but now this! I know he'll blow me off the first time a pretty girl walks along, but that doesn't make it any easier when he does." Hermione whispered angrily.  
  
"I think that because we're all so close, you're not a 'girl' to him, Hermione," Harry reassured her, "you're a great friend. You know how Ron is, he usually is tongue tied when it comes to girls. He's himself around you, and that counts for something."   
  
Hermione nodded, and looked up at Harry. She grinned, and reached  
  
up to flatten his extremely unruly hair. Harry knocked on the door, but no  
  
one answered. Ron came out of the room that they had left him in, and he  
  
slowly walked towards them.  
  
"Sorry." Ron said. Hermione just shrugged.   
  
"Don't worry about it."  
  
"Don't worry about what?" Nina was standing in the doorway of her room, a walkman around her neck.   
  
"Boys." Hermione told her with a sardonic smile. Nina nodded, understanding perfectly.   
  
"So, what do you need?"   
  
"Angela and Miriam left to go do something, and they told us to ask you to help us get acquainted with the other houses. We've been to Felixae  
  
already." Nina nodded.  
  
"Sure, I'll help. Can you go get Sidra, Ron? She's in Suzy's dorm, three doors down to the left. I need to talk to Hermione for a few minutes." Ron nodded, and he and Harry left to go find Sidra, wondering about the mysterious Suzy.  
  
Hermione came in to Nina's room, and let out an appreciative sigh. Nina's room was bright white, and looked like something out of a fairy tale.  
  
Hermione couldn't believe that it was in a mountain. There was even a huge  
  
window on one wall, showing a beautiful sunny day.  
  
"How did you do this?" Hermione asked in awe. Nina giggled, and sat on her bed.  
  
"Every room has had hundreds of previous boarders, and each time a new boarder comes in, they add something to the room. We even have a special bookcase for each room, where each of the previous boarders put their diaries. They're pretty interesting."  
  
"But isn't that looking at someone's private thoughts?" Hermione asked. But Nina shook her head.  
  
"Sometimes. But usually these are more like public journals, offering gossip, advice, poetry, and yes, personal thoughts." Nina grinned. "A girl can go to school here, look up her mother's year, and find out what her mum was like as a sixteen year old." Her grin widened. "Most of the time, it's not exactly a pleasant surprise." She went over to the bookcase, staring at the rows of iridescent purple-blue-silver journals. "Some of the rooms have pretty neat history behind them, starting from year one of the school's opening. Only Felixae has these journals."  
  
"So is Felixae made up of all girls?" Hermione asked, following Nina to the shelf. The light reflected off some of the books, and Hermione ran her finger along the spines.  
  
"No. The boy's dormitory is in the tower across from us. But sometimes, it seems like there are some boys journals mixed in with the girls..." She picked up an old, dusty volume, "like this one, from the first year that the school started. I only started reading these, and they're so interesting. Some are happy, some are sad, some are especially designed to put you to sleep at night, and some are supposed to keep you up." Nina beamed wickedly. "Some are even said to tell the future."  
  
"That's ridiculous," Hermione snorted, "Divining the future from the past? I don't have any patience with ordinary Divination, but this?" She lifted her eyebrows. Nina laughed outright.  
  
"It's not as impossible as it might seem. You can borrow a few while you're here." Nina shrugged. "Who knows? They might just surprise you." Hermione grinned, and took a few of the older books.   
  
"So, was this what you wanted to talk to me about?" Hermione asked sceptically.   
  
"No. I didn't have to say anything, but you looked totally lost. I hope you come here for the first part of your stay." Hermione looked at Nina questioningly.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, you know that you'll be living in each house during your stay,  
  
that's why you're seeing all the houses now." Nina told her, as if this was the simplest thing in the world. Hermione looked shocked.  
  
"What? We're not staying in just one? We do all go to one house at the same time, right?" Nina shook her head.  
  
"Maybe, but I kind of doubt it. The revered school psychologists- "Nina rolled her eyes impatiently-"Think you'll meet more new people if you're not all together, huddled in your little 'comfort zones'." Nina checked her watch. "We better get going; we don't have time to show you the other houses before supper. You'll just have to cross that bridge when you get there." Hermione nodded, and they walked out of Nina's room. I like her already, Hermione thought with a smile.  
  
Ron nervously knocked on Sidra's door, but no one answered. He tried the handle, and the door opened. The silver-haired girl sat at her desk. She glanced up at Ron.  
  
"Oh, sorry - Ron, right? What can I do for you?" Sidra asked, smiling sweetly. But Ron wasn't listening.  
  
"Uh...ga....ba...unghhh." Ron stared at the small, blonde, big-eyed girl sitting on the bed, wide-eyed, unable to voice a single comprehensive thought.   
  
*****  
  
Dinner was a chaotic affair.  
  
Hermione had never noticed at Hogwarts how loud the Great Hall could be when several hundred students were eating. Or maybe it was just that the cafeteria of Mount Boucherie was so much louder. Whatever it was, her eardrums were near to bursting.  
  
The students ate at round tables arranged around the room; a stage was erected at one end and the teachers ate at the back. There was one seat missing, but no one seemed to notice.  
  
Ron and Harry were ignoring the noise; or most of it. Dinner was almost over and the three friends were lingering over slices of cherry cheesecake. Ron - having recovered his wits, however vague and temporary - looked at his dubiously, lifting it to survey the burnt bottom.  
  
"Are these safe to eat?" He asked Hermione suspiciously.  
  
"They're fresh from the cooking class," she said triumphantly, "Students made them. Fortunately, Canadians -being part of the civilized world-," Ron ducked to avoid a smoldering glare, "share my views about House Elves."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. Any further argument was diverted by the dimming of the lights and a wild roar that arose from the student population.  
  
Ron glanced at Harry. Harry shrugged. Hermione raised her eyebrows at both of them.  
  
The lights went up over a platform at the front of the room, where a guitar-laden woman was waiting.  
  
"She's too old to be a student," Ron commented. Hermione shushed him.  
  
The woman stepped into the light, casting a brilliant smile at the students and teachers.  
  
"Hello, Hi and Howdy all!" she said.  
  
"Hey, Tina!" The students replied.  
  
"We've got three of my favourite students on stage tonight," she began.  
  
"We're all your favourite students!" Someone shouted. Laughter rang out.  
  
". for you Brits who won't know me, I am Professor Tina Sweetwater (call me Tina), I teach Guitar and Choral Music, plus Ballet-"  
  
"Forget us being your favorites!" The same voice announced, "We all know Tina's favorite is Nina!" Tina glared in the direction of the voice, and waited for the laughter to quiet down again.  
  
"I'm Head of Felixa House and right now I want you all to give it up for Tatterwings!"  
  
A cacophony of shouts, screams, yells, and war-whoops sounded as Tina took a seat, cradling her guitar in her lap, and three girls came on stage single file, all wearing butterfly wings, fluttery dresses, and copious amounts of glitter.  
  
The first, a reddish-brunette in green took center stage, a blonde in blue bearing a harp took a seat to her right, and a black-haired girl in pink stood on her left holding a violin. A glance from the first and they began.  
  
The audience was captivated as music throbbed throughout the room. The vocalist crooned sweetly, aided by a Sonarus charm.  
  
You've cast a spell on me, You've got me under your charms, But I like this love potion, So keep on holding me in your arms  
  
Love potion, I'm under a spell, Love potion, And I feel just fine, Love potion, So hand me another glass 'Cause I can't get enough of your Poisoned wine  
  
I know I'll feel bad in the morning, But I want to feel good tonight Give me some of that potion, baby Then turn off all of the lights. I don't want you to see me like this, I'm ashamed of myself, I want more of your potion, baby But more than that I think I want help.  
  
Love potion, I'm under a spell Love potion I feel sort of shamed Love potion I'd smash the vial Love potion If only someone would take off my chains.  
  
The last strum of a harp faded into the night, and the girls could only break into a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. All Ron could do was stare.  
  
"That one with the harp," he said at last, breaking the incredible silence with his hoarse whisper, "I saw her in Sidra's room."  
  
"Well, you either saw her or a veela," Hermione commented acidly, "That's what you acted like."  
  
"Come on, Hermione!" Ron shouted as the room was filled with screams, shouts, and applause, "Didn't you see her? Don't you think she's - she's just so. . ." His voice trailed off. Hermione just looked at him. "Okay, okay," He said, "Sorry about treating you like 'one of the guys' there."  
  
Any further argument, maiming, or possible dismemberment was interrupted by Tina retaking the stage and announcing that the talented trio could be met in the green room as soon as you were finished.  
  
Immediately Ron began wolfing down his cheesecake, burnt bottom or no. Hermione snorted with disgust.  
  
"Boys." 


	6. Three

Three  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the flowing mass of Canadian students to the 'green room', which was actually a thin disguise for a beginning-of-term party. The members of Tatterwings were in the centre of the room, blushingly accepting praise and sipping everyone's favourite, Butterbeer.  
  
Ron steadily made his way towards the three girls; Harry and Hermione pulled him back.  
  
"Please," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, "Think, Ron."  
  
"What are you going to do when you get there?" Harry asked, "What are you going to say? Do you know?"  
  
"No," Ron replied, "But now that you've asked me, I've started thinking, and now I'm nervous." He glared. "Thanks ever so much."  
  
"Well, it doesn't look like you have a choice now, Ron," Hermione said, "Because they're headed this way."  
  
And indeed, the three girls were making their way to where Harry, Ron and Hermione stood. Ron turned to stone.  
  
"Hey!" The brunette yelled at them. "I'm Tara, and these are my fellow bandmates Suzy and Angela." Suzy, the blond, and Angela, the black- haired one, smiled. "It's just so great that this exchange could happen - we couldn't go, but that's okay, because now all the cute British boys are coming to us!" Angela slung an arm around Harry. "How do you like Mount Boucherie so far, Harry?" She asked him.  
  
Harry blushed, and shifted uncomfortably. He sent a pleading look to Hermione, and smiled slightly at Angela.  
  
"It's great - it's going to take some getting used to, though." He told her. She smiled sweetly.  
  
"Well, hope I'm not interrupting anything," Draco called from behind them. They all turned at looked; he was back, pale and malevolent and dressed to kill. Ron glared, Harry glared, and Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
I will not succumb to this childish, childish spoiled brat's charms, Hermione told herself fiercely. I will not, I will not, I will not! The equally childish part of Hermione's mind said, But of course you will, dahling, and smirked at her. Hermione shoved it to one side, reminding it of Draco's status as Prat and Spawn-of-Evil, and payed attention to what was going on.  
  
Tara had begun to finger a pendant that hung around her neck; she spun it once, twice, three times.  
  
"Where did you get that necklace?" Draco asked, his pretense of sarcasm gone as if it had never existed.  
  
"Oh, this?" Tara said, lifting her green eyes to his grey ones. "I had them made specially for us." She lifted them up for all to see, three pale silver roses entwined around each other, with a diamond dangling at the bottom. "It's the emblem of Tatterwings - three roses, one stone. Three maidens, and soul's song." She looked at Draco almost expectantly.  
  
Three hearts, one master, Draco's mind reminded him. It was the final line of the poem his father had taught him, so long ago..  
  
A secret glance passed between Tara and Draco, a secret understanding.  
  
Without a word, Draco turned and left.  
  
"Well," Tara exclaimed, "Let's not let him ruin the party! Enjoy yourselves! Have fun!" She and the three others waved goodbye, and melted into the crowd.  
  
"I don't know about you, but I think I've had enough fun for one night." Harry said. "I'm going to find out where we're posted."  
  
"Uh-huh." Ron said tonelessly as he stared where Suzy had stood.  
  
"Ron?" Harry poked his motionless friend.  
  
"Leave him alone, Harry," Hermione told him, smiling. "His brains leak out whenever he sees a pretty girl."  
  
Harry smiled back, and they dragged Ron along after them to find out where to go next.  
  
*** Tara, Suzy, and Angela walked down a silent and empty hall. Their footsteps echoed faintly, and as they walked they spoke to each other in soft voices of something they had been told once. "'And now at last it comes.'" Tara began. "'You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you shall set up a Queen....'"   
Her voice trailed away, and Angela began after her, like streams of differently scented incense, rising where another had fallen.   
"'And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night!'"   
"'Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain!'" Suzie whispered, her thoughts pale and far away.   
"'Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning!'"Tara chanted.   
"'Stronger than the foundations of the earth.'" Suzie breathed.   
All the girls joined in together at the last line-   
"'All shall love me and despair!'"  
  
***  
  
Draco walked down a different hall in his own silent reverie. Very few things had the effect on Draco that this poem did. Very few.  
  
As he walked he suddenly noticed that he was at his destination; at the gate to the garden by the infirmary, and three young girls were waiting for him there. He went in and sat down on the grass with them. The moon was quite suddenly blotted out, as if it could not bear to watch these proceedings. The stars were not so lucky as to have clouds pass over them, and so they kept on lighting up the skies.  
  
"Hello, Draco," Tara greeted him. "Have you spoken with Lucius?"  
  
"I have," he said, "and he said you would tell me what I need to know."  
  
She smiled.  
  
"Harry Potter will be betrayed to the Dark Lord on December the twenty- fifth, at midnight exactly. Everything has been arranged. He will not have any warning. He will go to Pierre's Peak, the cliff overhanging the sea several miles from this school. He will go with complete trust in the one who leads him there. He will go with you."  
  
"Thank you, ladies," Draco rose.  
  
"We will help you," Angela said, "we will weaken his defenses. We will come between him and his friends and cut them off from them. But we will expect our rewards."  
  
"Payment on delivery, girls," He sighed, as the moon appeared again. "For all of us." 


End file.
